


Speak of the Devil

by TheRosenBones



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Amenadiel Redemption, Ella Lopez is too good for this world, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Introspection, Linda is good at what she does, Philosophy, Therapy, trigger warning: cutting mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:34:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRosenBones/pseuds/TheRosenBones
Summary: Linda didn't think she was anyone special, not really. Out of millions of people, she was sure there was someone smarter, prettier, _better_ than her. It was just statistics.That being said, she was pretty certain she was the only human alive that could claim the title of the "Devil's therapist".





	Speak of the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Linda is my absolute favorite character guys, I love her. Chapter title is a song title by Bastille, (who is gr8 for Lucifer songs, highly recommend). Inspired by talking about real therapy sessions with friends.

 

He closed Linda's office door behind him without breaking eye contact. A smile was affixed to his face like a mask. Perhaps it was. It was one of his greatest weapons. He said he was like heroine, and she couldn't help but agree. Metaphorically, of course; Linda was clean and always had been clean. But some of her other clients were recovering addicts. And boy, that smile was pretty much like a drug. It felt good when he looked at you, like you were the sole focus of his attention--And his manic persona made you to want his attention, and crave it when it was gone. His teeth were a bit too-white. Face a bit too symmetrical with his stupid chiseled jaw that had just the right amount of five-o'clock shadow to make his masculinity pronounced. He was perfect to the point of being predatory. Just _one of those faces_ , and people spilled their most heavily guarded secrets. Catching flies with honey indeed.

But he _was_ just a man. Just a client. Well. Sure, she was getting paid to help him, but what they had was above and beyond the normal boundaries of doctor and patient. Linda was the therapist to the celestial being that the world called the Devil.

If only she could put that on her resume. Despite how ridiculous it sounded on paper, (or how ominous the truth actually was), he really was just another person seeking help.

"Dr. Martin, you're staring at me. Don't tell me that you're thinking of getting shagged senseless," he huffed, sitting down on the couch with an elegant slouch. Still infuriatingly handsome, despite his arrogance. "You told me no before, and frankly, I'm tired of being rejected by women recently. Not sure what's going on there, is this thing on?-I feel like I keep having to ask that. What with recent bouts of mortality, wings; I've been on a bit of a divine status quo roller-coaster. I can't help if I'm affecting you, I thought we were past this. And!-I'm not in the mood."

She blinked, and sighed. _Men._ "No," pausing to gather her thoughts, she took off her glasses and wiped them with the corner of her suede blouse. "Just deciding on a topic for today. Though, before we move onto that; why don't we talk about your current mood first?"

"Should I have a lie down for this like they do in the movies?" he teased, but did it anyway. Thankfully, his loafers didn't touch the upholstery.

"Lucifer, you've been seeing me for roughly a year, why the dramatics?"

"Because I feel like I'm living a drama, doctor. Maybe dear old Aligheiri got the right of it. A comedy!-things do feel a bit laughable right now. You saw Maze actually _fluff that man's pillow_ , right?-or was that just a grand delusion?"

"So you're concerned over her changing?" Linda leaned forward and set her notepad on the coffee table between them. This wasn't exactly something she could write about after all.  _The devil was confused by a demon_ pillow _fluffing today._

“Everyone keeps saying that I'm changing but what happens if Maze changes as well?- can she or is she just imitating me? It’s the blind leading the blind up here. I have no idea what I’m doing, and it’s fun! Or it’s supposed to be. Nowadays, I have no idea what I’m doing. Yolo, as they say.”

“What do you think you're supposed to be doing?”  she asked

Lucifer let out a sigh through his nose, rolling his eyes in the process. “Isn't that the million-dollar question: asking what God's plan is. And yes, there is a plan. It’s not like him to just throw things in a petri dish and call it a day, no. He’s devious. The world isn’t just his fishbowl, it’s a chess game. And I’m sick of being a pawn. Or others being pawns. Always been a fan of free will, but hah!-look where that got me.”

“And…  you think that he wants something from you because he gave you back your wings.” Linda hedged a guess.

He rolled his ankle with a resounding pop. “Obviously.” His socks were a pastel purple that matched his pocket square. Linda suddenly felt a little underdressed, even though this was just her office. Home territory.

“That aside, what do you think about the fact that you are changing?-it's good that you admit it to it, by the way.”

Black eyes bored into her like a challenge as he rolled over to his side. “What do you mean by that?”

Linda held up her hands in surrender. “That wasn't supposed to be an insult--it's just that since I've been seeing you, you've changed. Quite a lot.”

He huffed, turned to his back, and gestured wildly to the ceiling like a petulant child. “Everyone keeps saying that but what do you mean? _How_ have I changed?”

“You're starting to care more, and no don't look at me like that--it's a good thing you are allowing yourself to feel more.”

“And why is that a _good_ thing?” He grimaced.

“Well. I s'pose it’s easier to communicate with you when you behave like a human.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?-because I'll have you know my dear, you're doing quite the opposite right now. That sounds like something I should worry about. Most humans I share company with these days are of the criminal persuasion.”

“What I mean to say is that…” She faltered. It was too easy to forget that there was a fallen angel in the room with her. One that actually trusted and cared for her, in his own way. But a fallen angel nevertheless. _The Devil himself._

“Do spit it out doctor, we only have an hour together and I don’t like wasting time.”

Linda cleared her throat. “Please don't be angry. I'm trying to understand as much as I can at least hear me out. I’m only human after all.” she giggled. It was a turn of phrase she used often in therapy that had a _bit_ more meaning now.

He blinked at her, waiting for her to continue.

…Right.

“I think that you have the capacity to feel emotions just like us. Except without the context of time, you repress your emotions in order to function in some manner of society that I can’t really even begin to comprehend.”

“I assure you my anger is never repressed.” It was hissed through his teeth, but Linda knew it wasn't a direct threat to her. Just his usual... assertiveness about how he perceived himself.

“Yes. I get that you have a lot of things to get angry at... what I'm trying to say is that perhaps maybe humans and angels aren't so different in terms of how we react to situations. The Bible says that man was made from the image of god, but you're very much like us. I mean!-at first I thought you were just another client speaking in metaphors and delusions. I thought you were a _human_ because of how similar we look. But that got me thinking: maybe we're modeled after angels? We both feel, that much is obvious. However, humans are very much mortal, which puts their emotions into the perspective of time. As a social species we have to get along with each other at least superficially to survive; therefore the way we react to different situations is very…” she trailed off, trying not to laugh at herself. Honestly, this whole talk felt all too familiar. How many angels fit on the head of a pin again?

“‘Very’ what, doctor?”

“Sorry, I can't help but laugh at this. Last time I had a conversation about this grand topic of the cosmos, I was very. Ah. Um. Shitfaced. In college. It's a stereotype for a reason.”

“Oh. Oh! Well. That sounds a lot more interesting than this feelings thing; let’s hear about that instead.”

“No, I. Well.” Linda blushed, and tried to hide it behind a fake cough. But, the idea had a bit of merit. “Actually this might give you a little bit of context to the current topic.”

“What, drinking in excess over an existential crises?”

“Well. Yes. Besides the point, but my first major in college was biomedical engineering. I flunked my first midterm so bad that I got drunk off my ass at a frat party the night after.  It was beyond difficult of a test; it was impossible. The highest score in that class was a fourty-eight percent. Later, I realized that it was made to weed out the kids who weren’t dedicated, but at the time, I felt horrible. In high school, I was pushed to be an honor student with the best grades. In my head, I thought that if I was perfect, my parents would care about me.”

The face Lucifer made at that was spectacular, like he had swallowed a lemon and ate the canary, all at once. Sympathy for a similar situation, maybe? It was progress. Even though going through her life story wasn’t a comfortable rabbit hole to go down, she knew he needed this.

It was context. And sympathy of her own, in a way.

“I felt that if I was a good little daughter, my parents wouldn’t fight as much. It was a messy divorce with an affair, and I was often used as an excuse or weapon in arguments.”

“Not a new concept. One could say it’s an age old story. Boring!-go to the exciting parts. You said were drunk? Drinking to feel better?”

She could tell it was getting to him from the way he kept deflecting. “Getting there, Lucifer. I felt like I had to be perfect in every way for my parents. No matter how many skin care products I used, I still had acne. No matter how much I studied, I wasn’t the smartest. I couldn’t live up to my self-appointed expectations. No matter what I did, I couldn’t change my parents. So, I got absolutely shitfaced that night of the exam to the point of it being a danger to my health. Went to the hospital for a few days for alcohol poisoning. I used to be a cutter, too. Med school was hell for me, but that’s part of why I’m so determined that you stop with the… wing thing.”

His expression to the ceiling was unreadable, so she powered through the rest of her speech.

“My roommate caught me, suggested I go to the school counselor and I started therapy lessons.”

His eyes widened comically as he sat up, scooting forward to the literal edge of his seat. “So the therapist has been to therapy before?”

Linda nodded, smiling. “Of course. That’s how I ended up choosing this profession, after all!-but that counselor gave me advice that might help you out tremendously.”

Lucifer folded his hands together as he practically vibrated in anticipation.

“I was having a crisis because I was separated from my parents in college. Being out of the situation allowed me to feel all of the wrongs done to me by them. I was hurt, and for a while, I hated them. However, after a while, I realised that they were people too, and they were just as confused and as hurt as I was. They handled stress as well as I did--not well at all. I hurt my friends by lashing out often.”

Oh. She knew he had his attention at that. His face may have been impassive, but his eyes held a certain kind of hurt, tight around the edges.

“But!-the longer I had my independance and freedom, the more I learned how to be myself. I quit college and started working as a phone girl. It paid really well, and my dad hated me for it, which delighted me to no end.”

“Oh you little minx, you _didn’t_. Daddy issues turned you to being a sex worker?”

“Yes. But not for those reasons. It made me feel empowered. I was my own person, and it felt good to be wanted, even if it was some sleezeball at the other end of the line. But eventually, I realised that I wanted more. It wasn’t being wanted that I craved, it was the desire to help people, so I put myself through school to become a therapist.”

“...you actually paid your way through medical school by being a call girl?”

“Yes.”

“Something tells me that’s not something you are supposed to say to a client in therapy.” Lucifer said slowly, but there was a smile at the corner of his mouth. It almost looked like he was proud of her, and Linda couldn't help but stop her own smile from growing. 

Linda laughed. “No, but we’re more than just a patient-doctor relationship, no?”

“Because we had sex?” Ah yes. Blunt as ever. Thanks for the reminder of her poor life choices. Yet another thing to tally under 'things Linda never thought she would do'. Sex with Satan. Check. 

She grimaced. “...well, yes. But I’m talking about how we’re friends, Lucifer.”

This was by far the quietest she had seen him in their sessions, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. He just simply sat there for a moment, staring at the tiny window. The ding of her phone alarm for the end of the session chirped, but he didn’t move for quite some time. Linda simply let him sit while she tidied up the office. He was her last appointment of the day, and it looked like he needed a moment to gather his thoughts before they left. Eventually, he got up and smoothed out the creases of his fancy Prada suit.

“Sorry to keep you, doctor. Same time next week?”

Linda nodded without looking at him as she put his file back into the cabinet in her desk.

“Doctor?”

His voice was oddly gentle, and she couldn’t help but meet his eyes.

“I…” he began, huffing. His weight shifted from one leg to the other, but in the end he turned towards the door and held the handle like a lifeline. “Thank you for sharing your story today. It’s been enlightening.”

“I hope it helps you Lucifer.”

He all but fled the room, leaving the door open behind him in his wake.


End file.
